


Reap what you sow

by allollipoppins



Series: Murder Husbands [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Victor Nikiforov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Hannibal (TV) Fusion, Dark Katsuki Yuuri, Dark Victor Nikiforov, Domestic Fluff, Hermaphrodite/Intersex Omega, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Katsuki Yuuri, Pre-Relationship, Serial Killers, honeymoon phase
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-05-09 03:03:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14707892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allollipoppins/pseuds/allollipoppins
Summary: Shishi kutta mukui: "To pay dearly for one's follies" (lit. "The retribution for having eaten wild boar's flesh.")Musings on a marriage, on what is and what could have been [Blood and Chocolate verse + remixed AUs].





	1. Entrée

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Suzuran_Cigue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzuran_Cigue/gifts).



> An hour and a minute away from midnight over here, so happy (early) birthday to my dearest Suzuran, who is one of the people I treasure the most in the world :) I hope you have a great day dearest!  
> This is a sequel to my Valentine's Day fic "I will be (everything I'm not)" essentially from Victor's POV :) I'd initially planned for a three-parter, but I think it would be more fun to invite fellow readers to contribute. If you have a prompt that tickles your fancy and that you'd like to see me write, please feel free to comment below, or send me an ask on tumblr <3 in the meantime, enjoy the first chapter! *bows*

Microscopic specks of red clung to his cheek as he inspected it in the mirror. A small imprint that was nearly imperceptible to the average human eye, and even from up close he doubted anyone else could have possibly pinpointed them, or drawn the pattern they followed. And yet the shape of Yuuri’s mouth still burned his cheek, hours after he had kissed him. An irony, for the kiss had been so light he doubted it had happened in the first place. But here it was, reflected in the mirror. Victor dared say that some of it might have also adhered to his slight stubble.

His fingers itched to scratch at the cheek Yuuri’s lips had lingered on earlier, leaving behind a breezy kiss that he might as well have imagined, given how fast it was. A shame, that it couldn’t have been on the lips, but Victor would never think of pressing him, nor did he feel disappointed in the slightest. On the contrary. He had all the time in the world to make progress in that department. While they had gone on three dates – and counting – thus far, the closest he had ever come to being physically close to Yuuri was when he had pressed his own lips to the omega’s hand, the night he had met him for the first time. Still he treasured every fleeting touch, every opportune contact. The brush of their fingers as he opened the door to his side of the car; his palms on Yuuri’s shoulders when he moved to take his coat, either removing it to be put on the coat hanger of his home or helping him back into it and smoothing the raised cotton pads underneath; a single hand pulling Yuuri closer, securely placed on his lower back and guiding him forward.

His sketchbooks filled themselves, no longer with nightmares and ghoulish apparitions, but with pictures of Yuuri. Often the pencil would dance between his fingers, a tick of his whenever he was in deep concentration, but never would it touch the paper, not even graze it with a single line. Tonight was no different. Left on his lonesome, he found no better occupation than losing himself to contemplation on his favourite, absent subject.

He thought back of the previous night, the last time they had seen each other as inspiration. Yuuri had risen on his tiptoes to kiss his cheek goodbye – even with heels on he still needed to raise his head to look him in the eye –, Victor had subtly allowed himself a whiff of his scent, the tip of his nose trailing down the curve of his lovely neck.

He pictured his fingers on Yuuri’s neck, pad of his thumb pressed to one side and the last three digits on the other, forefinger hovering over his Adam’s apple. The little, audible stutter in Yuuri’s throat when he would press down, palm enclosing his flesh and only a few layers away from the bone, feeling for Yuuri’s heartbeat as it pulsed underneath him. Yuuri’s hands, digging into the pillow – or buried in the sheets – _no_ , cradling his wrists as he silently let him in, encouraging him to press on as he’d look him in the eye, never once breaking eye contact, both irises deep pools of black in which he saw himself, and only himself. Victor considered his eyes as he sketched on paper, almond-shaped and dark, partially hidden by long lashes and half-lidded gazes, covered by a fog of ecstasy.

Victor drew his lips, the curl of them frozen in different expressions. He adored Yuuri’s mouth, constantly relished at dinner the way Yuuri’s lips wrapped around his fork, almost tasting his own food from the nearly synesthetic act itself. Many evenings Victor wondered what Yuuri would feel like around his fingers, lips wrapped around each digit, suckling the way infants did on their mother’s breast. Or other thoughts invaded his mind, that of a sweet, lovely mouth draped on his cock, licking the head and kissing it tenderly, teasing him, teeth lightly tugging at the foreskin, the tip of his tongue exploring the base of his knot.

He imagined the other pair of lips, the one between Yuuri’s legs, and wondered if they were as pink and fleshed-out as his mouth was. The secret garden no one could ever hope to breach, not even Victor himself, but even if it took holding back to open its gates, then surely it would be worth it. Dimly, he wondered what it would be like if Yuuri pleasured himself at the same time as he was pleasuring him. Thought of nimble fingers surrounding his cock, moving to his black fringe and pushing back his hair, then lowering. One hand reaching for a nipple, caressing the small bud and bringing it to hardness, while the other hand trailed between his legs and buried itself in the folds of his sex. Reaching for places he couldn’t access, fingers not big enough.

He still recalled the way they had met. How to forget? Victor had been busy entertaining some of his guests, most of them lecturers at the Academy looking to make the acquaintance of their esteemed host, when he had spotted him at the side of the amuse-bouches table, back facing him, Phichit Chulanont at his shoulder. The latter nodded in his direction, then retreated to find other members of his team, leaving the other man to his fate. His colleague’s plus one, in this case. Victor hadn’t been impressed by what he was seeing; meek and mild at best, he appears to not belong isolated as he was from the crowd, in his suit-and-tie – and what a horrible, baby blue tie he was wearing, but as a person who’d been called out on his affinity for paisley he wasn’t one to talk much.

And then he had turned, meeting his brown eyes, and the world had stopped.

Dr Yuuri Katsuki, or Dr Katsuki Yuuri as was to be said in his home country. Graduate of Wayne University and Professor Celestino Cialdini’s protégé. Officially retired after suffering from a traumatic ordeal at the hands of the wrong patient. A consulting psychiatrist who also gave classes at the Academy, though he had never gotten the opportunity to assist in one of his seminars or run into him.

Omega.

His presence had been enough to eclipse even Agent Leroy's, who was for all of Victor's best efforts more than noticeable. Victor had never properly met Yuuri Katsuki, and yet he felt nothing but admiration for the man before him. And from what he could tell, the feeling was mutual.

Most of the dinner that followed had been spent with Yuuri by his side. It was most shockingly rude of him, to ignore his other guests in such a blatant way, though they seemed to have businesses of their own to tend to. The moments they had shared, the conversations only came to an end when Dr Katsuki – _“please, call me Yuuri”_ – had needed to drive his roommate back to their apartment, though the young Chulanont could have just as easily been driven back home by De la Iglesia and Ji.

Yuuri had made his excuses in this way of his that had become familiar to him, at once managing to make it both an apology and a promise for himself. Just as he had only a few hours ago.

They had planned to see each other for dinner at Victor’s house, a weekly commodity by now. Yuuri had yet to ask if their meeting were born out of something deeper than camaraderie, just as Victor had yet to venture into virgin territory. He had been in the middle of choosing which wine would go best with his dessert – would it be Muscadet? Unless Sauternes worked best? – when Yuuri had phoned.

Yuuri had told him (not without audible embarrassment) that their next dinner date would have to be postponed, what with his heat creeping on him early than planned. Of course he hadn’t used those exact words, modest as his darling was, having instead told Victor that he’d be busy with some personal matters.

Victor had readily accepted, swallowing down his disappointment, and promised him a dinner and a show for after he would be fully recovered.

Much as the first day, as the nights that had followed, Yuuri had laughed and told him that he wasn’t worth it. And Victor had replied, with a smile on his lips that didn’t quite match his eyes, that he deserved more than that if he could afford to give it to him.

Victor wasn’t so sure back then if he wanted to stay “just friends” or if he wanted more. Now, as he settled for dinner, no thirst for dessert wine left and sitting at the front of the dinner table on his lonesome, he knew he wanted more. So much more.

Yuuri didn’t look at him with the polite sympathy other psychiatrists gave him whenever they spoke or with the looks of awe some of his students and colleagues gave him, carefully distilling questions and answers and gauging his reactions, mentally filing them for future reference. Most didn’t intend for such information to be used as distastefully as Hisashi Morooka did, but Victor’s whereabouts remained a conversational topic for all of the BAU to perform on a periodic basis. He didn’t gaze at him with a critical, assessing eye, none of the professional curiosity others had expressed in his regard, a most distasteful way of establishing relationships he has no desire for. Yuuri didn’t look at him like he was a freak or a piece of meat to pick at with tweezers.

No. Yuuri was a breath of fresh air on a stifling summer night. Yuuri looked at him the way he guessed a friend would. Kind and oh so patient, the genuine kind that only close friends could exhibit. It almost frightened him, to be able to consider him a friend when they had only known each other for a couple of months. For the first time he was finding himself looking in the eye a man who didn’t lie to him, who possibly would never be able to lie to him.

Yakov – a deliberate slip the honourable director of the BAU afforded himself in rare times of paternal affection – had squinted and asked him what the heck he was on about with Katsuki. As a doctor, Yuuri remained one of the Bureau's greatest assets as a consultant, his shrewd analysis and profiling having contributed immensely to closing some of their harder cases and putting more psychopaths that he could name behind bars or within the walls of mental institutes.

If Victor decided to keep going with that little... affair of his then Katsuki's reliability might be in turn compromised. Or so was what Yakov thought.

He could give him that, at the very least. If he didn’t know better, Yuuri was bound to be his cause of death.


	2. Amuse-bouche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Appetizer, often a bite-sized portion of food served before a meal."
> 
> A sneak-peek into the pregnancy and domestic life of Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov and Victor Nikiforov.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I haven't forgotten you all, nor have I forgotten this work ^^  
> University life is going well so far, but the first year of masters is always a bit much. In spite of the many free hours we have, there's lots of reports and homework to hand in. I sadly haven't been able to catch up on Erlking and my other works yet, but I do hope to get around them once the Christmas holidays come...  
> I have ideas as to where I'll take this story, both the original verse that started with IWBEIM, and some remixes I came up with along the way. But as always, feel free to put some prompts in the comments or in tumblr asks. I love talking with you guys :D  
> As per usual, this work wasn't beta-read and was written by a non-native English speaker. All mistakes are mine, so feel free to point them out :)

“You,” Yuuri remarks, “are babying me.”

Victor pauses. His right hand hovers in the air, clutching a fork that remains a good inch away from Yuuri’s mouth.

“I don’t hear a complaint,” he finally says, to which Yuuri rolls his eyes, but still leans a little closer.

“Your plate will get cold,” Yuuri warns, glancing down at the full, very much intact plate steaming next to his own.

Victor shakes his head, ignoring his breakfast in favour of feeding his mate. “It’s mostly greens, nothing to worry about.”

Yuuri opens up wide enough for Victor to gently push the utensil towards him, and into his awaiting mouth. Yuuri’s lips close around it, then slide softly backwards until the teeth of the fork have been licked clean of any remaining food. Victor doesn’t once take his eyes off of him, watching the way his mouth moves, tasting the eggs topped with sweet cherry tomatoes and smooth avocado. The soft sigh that escapes him, no louder than a purr that rumbles deep in his lungs, tells him that he’s felt the brioche melt on his tongue. He answers with a groan of his own that makes Yuuri giggle. His husband’s eyelids flutter as he swallows, taking in all the flavours.

“I love your huevos high life,” Yuuri muses through the bite. Victor grins, both at the compliment and at the way the words roll over Yuuri’s tongue. His Spanish pronunciation is accented, however the effort he puts into the diction of every syllable is quite obvious. He touches his fingers to Yuuri’s thigh, while dexterously cutting him another piece with the hand still holding the fork.

“Thank you,” he says, deftly pushing another piece of bread and vegetables onto his cutlery. “I found the recipe in an old cookbook. I see you’ve been practising your Spanish.”

“I’ve had more time to practice, recently,” Yuuri replies, a smile teasing at the corners of his lips. He rubs his stomach for good measure, instantly drawing his alpha’s attention. Victor looks down at Yuuri with such great fondness he is certain his pheromones irradiate felicity. Whoever had once said married life was boring and social suicide was either a fool or the unhappiest man that could ever be in this world. He couldn’t think of a sight more satisfying than that of his husband and mate cradling his pregnant belly, the golden band on Yuuri’s finger brushing his bare skin and belly button as his hand feels his child’s presence. _Their_ child.

His own hand itches to press against his stomach, to feel their child growing right underneath his touch. In the meantime he contents himself with feeding both his loves.

“You do know that I can feed myself, right?” Yuuri chuckles. “Just because I’m on maternity leave doesn’t mean I can’t move my arms anymore.”

“I am aware of that, dearest,” Victor quips. “but can you blame me for spoiling you? Besides,” he adds, letting his free hand come to rest atop Yuuri’s own, squeezing them gently, “I’d like to have more time to practice too.”

Yuuri’s face visibly softens, so incredibly full of love that Victor can’t help but push his tray off his lap and lean closer to him. He squints at the clock resting on the bedside table behind Yuuri, as he pulls him into a kiss. 8 o’clock and a half, and moving. It’s much too early to be up on a Sunday, and yet as he tastes salt and black coffee on Yuuri’s lips, Victor thinks that this is how he’d like every Sunday morning – every morning, and every single day – to be like for the rest of his life.

It could be a tight affair to manage, most days. Victor’s body was too accustomed to early mornings to lie in, regardless of whether it was a weekday or a rest day, forcing his internal clock to wake him up upon daybreak. Yuuri, on the other hand, was more of a night owl, and he liked his lazy mornings in bed. It went in par with his work as a consultant for both the Bureau and the select few patients he received on a regular basis. Having a lighter, more predictable schedule helped in going about life; not that it was ever hard for either of them in the first place, but it certainly made it easier for Yuuri to manage his pregnancy prior to taking his “official” leave.

Victor himself couldn’t wait to take his own in a few weeks’ time. Yakov wouldn’t be terribly happy about it, but then again there was hardly anything that kept him satisfied for long. Victor could only thank his strangely good luck for the lack of recent cases. Criminals still came and went, but the ones they had caught in the past months hadn’t been a hassle, nor had he had a problem handling them. They were ridiculously mundane people, individuals caught for petty crimes or who were too much of amateurs to go very far before being intercepted. These weren’t really his territory, but Yakov insisted on him covering ground.

Yakov must be quite frustrated, Victor pondered, pulling Yuuri in a tight embrace. He couldn’t entirely blame him. It had to be nerve-wracking to work with your ex-wife, of all people, every single day: it had to be all the more tense when the one criminal whom you had spent the past few years hunting down, had suddenly vanished in thin air without leaving a trace.

Although it wasn’t quite exact either… the Wild Boar _had_ left them a little gift prior to his disappearance. A few months ago, they had found Hisashi Morooka snugly attached to a boat, arms spread wide across the hull, chest bursting with an intricate, pure bouquet of apple blossoms, white azaleas and stephanotis.

Promise, abundance and luck. What could it possibly mean?

He gasps when something kicks underneath his palm. Yuuri presses against him as much as humanly possible with his pregnant belly, nuzzling his scent glands with the tip of his nose, silently encouraging him to touch. His left hand comes to rest on Yuuri’s hip, while he spreads the fingers of the right one wide, until he can cup the side of Yuuri’s belly. The warm skin under his palm suddenly moves again, kicking a little harder, a little more than before. Victor is almost certain than any minute from now, his heart will give out on him in the middle of that kick. Nothing compares to the feeling of his hands cradling Yuuri’s belly, his arms securely wrapped around his waist, protective and supportive all at once.

“You will spoil them rotten, won’t you?” Yuuri whispers in his ear. While part of him knows that he question is half-rhetoric, half-fact, it makes him want to prove himself to Yuuri. Prove that he is a worthy mate, and a worthy father-to-be.

“How could I not indulge a small version of you?” Victor whispers back. “A small version of us?”

Yuuri gazes up at him adoringly. “I hope they look like you.”

Victor chuckles. “That would be problematic,” he teases, rubbing his nose on Yuuri’s cheek, “because I hope they take more after you. Although,” he seems to concede, reclining against the headboard, “I’d like it better your way. Like that, I won’t have to worry about suitors.”

Yuuri playfully hits his arm, though he does repress a whine when his biceps stings slightly. Yuuri can be incredibly strong when he wants to be.

Yuuri sighs into him. “Not even in the cradle yet and we’re already discussing them as if they were teenagers or off to college. Can you believe us?”

Victor’s hand finds his own underneath his thin cotton nightgown, idly tracing circles around his navel. The pads of his fingertips linger more than usual, feeling how supple Yuuri’s belly is. He had taken to using body lotion due to the strain carrying the little one put on him. Victor had made sure of buying only the finest products for him, all organic and personally hand-picked based on scent and qualities.

He shrugs. “I don’t find anything particularly shocking in that. Some couples discuss their dream life when they aren’t even together. I’ve seen people who didn’t mean to be serious talk about the number of dogs they would have, how they would be named and what breed they would pick, what kind of house they would like to buy and where it would be situated, up to the number of children. I think that compared to them we are being reasonable.”

People talked. People always talked about these things.

Let them, Victor brushes off, kissing the top of Yuuri’s head. He wouldn’t have this life any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comments and bookmarks are always greatly appreciated :)  
> I'm @allollipoppins on tumblr & @AriL10N355 on twitter, hmu!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos and bookmarks are always appreciated :)  
> I'm @allolippoppins on tumblr & @AriLioN355 on twitter. Hmu!


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